Appearances
by tigerlady93
Summary: When Daniel is arrested for murder, Betty has to save the day. Again. BettyDaniel.


_ The fashion world was rocked today by news of Daniel Meade's arrest for the murder of rising glam-icon, Karen Betcher. Meade, Editor-in-Chief of Mode Magazine and scion of Meade Publications, was found in his apartment, hovering over the dead body of the young model. No official word has been heard from his people, but rest assured that you'll hear it first here, on Fashion TV, when they do.  
_

"Listen, Meade. We've got your fingerprints all over the murder weapon. We've got a bloody shirt that belongs to you stuffed in your trash can. And we've got you at the scene of the crime. Why don't we take it from the top, and this time you tell us the truth."

Meade sighed and pressed his face into his hands. He was the perfect model of a rich boy gone bad: fancy shirt wrinkled and bloodstained at the cuffs, milk-pale face drawn and the skin tight around his eyes, fancy spiked hair-do smashed flat on one side like he'd been sleeping off a night of hard partying instead of out committing heinous acts. New York had more than its fair share of playboys, but they didn't usually wind up in this interrogation room.

"Look," Meade said at last, right hand dropping away from his face to gesture indifferently, "I told you, I didn't do it. I found her there this morning, I checked to see if there was anything I could do, and then I called the cops. That's it."

Detective Dunavett circled the table in a classic cop move, resting his fingertips on the varnished surface as he leaned in imposingly. "Now why don't I believe that?"

Meade stared up under half-lidded eyes. "Maybe because you've already convicted me? You know, I was always taught that the accused is innocent until proven guilty."

Dunavett snorted. "Oh, we have plenty of proof, Meade. Our people just need to finish tying everything up with neat little bows, and then you're going away for a long time."

Meade didn't say a word. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking all the world like an impatient boy waiting for dad to finish the lecture and get on with the punishment so he could go out and sin again as soon as possible.

"It's funny," Dunavett said in a conversational tone. He perched on the edge of the table, back to the mirrored wall. "How the crazies come out as soon as stories like yours make it to the media. We try as hard as we can to keep things under wraps, but the paparazzi, they're crazy. I'm sure you know all about that, though."

Meade's eyebrow lifted a fraction, his lips tilted a few centimeters on one side.

"But this one, though. She shows up almost as soon as the story broke, demanding to see you. Says she's your assistant."

"Betty?" Meade looked up, _something _ flashing through his eyes. "Is she here?"

Dunavett smiled, pleased with the crack in Meade's facade. "Now isn't that interesting? Does she know something, Meade? Maybe you threatened her to keep her mouth shut."

Fury burned across Meade's face before he glanced away. The muscles in his jaw jumped several times. "I want to speak with my lawyer," he said, the words ground out between his teeth.

Dunavett stood up, a sigh of frustration escaping. He flashed a hand signal at the mirror, then left the room.

Meade buried his face in his hands again.

_No word is forthcoming from Daniel Meade's camp on the details of his incarceration, but that hasn't stopped the fashion world searching for dirt amongst its own. Sources close to the handsome heir confirmed that Daniel Meade had taken_ _Karen Betcher to lunch several times in the past week. And we here at Fashion TV know what lunch with Daniel Meade means, don't we? _

_ Stay tuned as more tawdry tales_ _about the Mode magnate come to light.  
_

"No, you don't understand!" Betty dug in her purse again, finally coming up with a handful of business cards. She pushed one towards the cop blocking her way to the inner sanctum of the building. "I really am his assistant. See? Right there--Betty Suarez, Mode Magazine."

"I'll handle this, Rico." Detective Dunavett stepped forward, holding out his hand. Suarez looked up at him in surprise, then smiled widely enough to show off the thick blue braces bracketing her teeth. "If you'll come with me... Miss Suarez, right?"

"Oh, yes, right." She smiled again and stuffed her business card into Dunavett's hand. "Betty, actually. Nobody calls me Miss Suarez but my teachers back at Queens' College."

"Okay, Betty." Dunavett pointed towards the far doors, and Suarez finally got the picture. She turned and headed in that direction, but she didn't stay quiet.

"Are we going to see Daniel? I can't believe this has happened. It's just horrible." She paused long enough for Dunavett to get in front of her and direct her to Interrogation 2. "I mean, we just had lunch with her on Friday. How can she just be dead like that?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Betty," he said as he ushered her into the room. She paused at the threshold, staring around at the nearly empty room.

"Wait, where's Daniel? I need to talk to him." Suarez started back towards the door, but Dunavett blocked her way.

"I'm sorry, Betty, but that's not possible at this time. He's being held for the murder of Karen Betcher."

"Oh, God." Betty slumped a little, and Dunavett hurried to pull out the chair at the table. She sat down hard and gave him a wan smile in thanks. "I mean, I know that's what they were saying on the news, but I just didn't believe it."

"Would you like some water, Miss Suarez?" She looked pale, almost like she was going to faint. Of course, it could have just been the effect of her frost blue coat under the florescent lights.

Suarez waved him off. "No, no. I just want to get this taken care of and get out of here. Oh! But thank you for offering, Officer–"

"Detective," he corrected. "Detective Dunavett. Now, what did you mean by 'get this taken care of'? Do you know something about the case, Miss Suarez?"

She bit her lip, then leaned forward as if to share a secret. "Does my family have to know about this? Because they'll go all crazy, and-- Oh! Walter! It would just crush Walter..."

"Miss Suarez," Dunavett said gently. "Why don't you just tell me, and then I'll see what I can do."

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Daniel couldn't have killed Karen, because he was with me all night."

Dunavett blinked. He bit the insides of his cheeks, and kept biting until he could keep a straight face on his own. He adjusted the watch on his wrist, and then straightened his cuffs. "You're saying you spent the night with Daniel Meade."

She nodded fervently, that same bright blue smile still on her face.

Dunavett cleared his throat. He licked his lips, and then leaned forward so he could meet her eyes on her own level. "Look, Miss Suarez. Betty. I can tell you're a really nice person. Meade's your boss, right?"

She nodded again. "I'm his assistant. Three years, actually, as of last month."

"Right. Well, from experience, I know the kind of loyalty a person can have for the people they work with. But that doesn't change the facts. It's a pretty open and shut case, Miss Suarez." He paused, still holding her eyes. "I mean, the murder weapon even has his name all over it."

"He didn't do it." Her voice wavered, but he could tell she believed it. "I was with him."

Dunavett sighed. "Do you understand how much trouble you can get into for lying about something like this? We're talking accessory to murder, Miss Suarez. This isn't something to play around with."

She clenched her jaw. For a moment, she reminded Dunavett of Meade stewing in just the same way, and then she tilted her head and the resemblance was gone. "You don't believe me," she said.

Dunavett didn't twitch, but she nodded once.

"Fine." She stood up, snatching up her oversized purse. "I think I'm done talking now, Detective. Have a good afternoon."

She stalked to the door, elbows swinging. Dunavett winced as she pushed on the knob and kept walking, right into the door. She flashed him a sheepish smile and then pulled the door open and slipped on out.

_ The surprises keep coming today, as Wilhelmina Slater, Creative Director at Mode Magazine, leapt to Daniel Meade's defense in a statement given moments ago._

"Daniel could never do something like this," _she said in a recorded message. _"It's far too messy and tacky."

_As viewers will remember, Wilhelmina Slater has had a long running feud with the playboy Meade since he took control of Mode right under her nose.  
_

_What does this sudden show of support mean? Only we at Fashion TV are interested enough to dig up the details for you.  
_

Betty stomped into the house, tossing her purse onto the couch without checking to see if it landed where it was supposed to go. Justin was at her side immediately, but she ignored him.

"Well, how did it go?" Hilda asked.

Betty ignored her as well. She flung open the freezer door, letting it bounce on its hinges, and grabbed the pint of double-fudge.

"That well, huh?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Betty slid open the silverware drawer, grabbed a serving spoon, and slammed the drawer shut.

"But what about Daniel?" Justin asked. "They're not going to charge him, are they?"

Betty sighed. She set the pint of ice cream on the table, and then turned towards Justin. He was as tall as she was now, but he hadn't lost any of the innocence he'd always had. "I don't know. I didn't get to talk to him, but the detective didn't make it sound good."

"But he can't have done it!" Justin looked worse than he had when the Martha Stewart scandal had broken. "Wilhelmina even thinks he's innocent. She released a statement and everything."

Betty shared a look with Hilda.

"Go finish getting ready for school, Justin," Hilda said, giving him a gentle shove on the shoulder. "I know you've got a math quiz today, you can study some more on that."

"But mom--"

"But nothing! Go on, or I won't let you watch any Fashion TV later."

They both watched as Justin sulked out of the room and up the stairs. Betty collected her spoon and began attacking the ice cream. Hilda sank down in the chair beside her.

"That bad?"

"Worse," Betty groaned. "They're not even looking for anybody else, Hilda. At this rate he's going to end up in the electric chair."

"Do they do that here still?"

Betty shrugged and kept scraping away at the ice cream. It had been in the back of the freezer, saved for the really bad days, and it was hard as a rock.

"You're right, that doesn't matter right now." Hilda steepled her fingers together in front of her. "I'm sure he's got a good lawyer. That one that helped dad, maybe. She was something else."

"Yeah." Betty sucked the ice cream off of her spoon, then tossed the spoon back into the container. "But if it gets to court, it's gonna be tough. They're so sure he did it."

Hilda rubbed Betty's shoulder. "I know you don't want to hear it, but sometimes it's hard to tell with people, you know? Like with that Leah, remember her? I was so sure she was the greatest thing to happen to us, and looked how that turned out."

Betty pushed Hilda's hand away. "Daniel's not some cheap con you met on the corner, Hilda. I've spent nearly every day with him for three years. I know he didn't do it!"

"Okay, okay!" Hilda made shushing noises with her hands. "What if it was an accident, though? I mean, maybe like Dad--"

"Hilda, would you stop? He didn't do it."

"Fine. If you say so, then he didn't do it." Hilda started rubbing Betty's shoulder again, and this time Betty let her. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, you know?"

"It's a little late for that." Betty stared down into the carton. She'd only eaten a couple bites, but she stuck the lid back on and carried it back to the kitchen. She tossed the spoon into the sink. "I have to get to work."

"What?" Hilda stood, catching the freezer door as Betty tossed it open again. "Why? Your boss is in jail, Betty. What possible good could it do for you to go into work?"

"Mode must go on," Betty declared in a faux-cheerful voice. "And besides. I'm going to do whatever I can to help Daniel out."

"Wash your face," Hilda called as Betty stalked out of the kitchen. "You've got fudge on your cheek."

_ We're back once again with the top story of the day. Daniel Meade, Editor in Chief of Mode Magazine and son of Meade Publications_ _mogul Bradford Meade, was arrested earlier this morning in connection with the death of up-and-coming_ _model Karen Betcher. No word yet from Meade's office, but Wilhelmina Slater declared earlier that such a deed was impossible.  
_

"Oh my God, where have you been?" Amanda cried as soon as Betty stepped out of the Tube. She latched onto Betty's arm with a chocolatey hand. "It's been insane around here."

"What?" Betty asked, plucking at her sleeve.

"Oh, please. It's polyester. Like it's going to stain." Amanda stuffed another turtle into her mouth. "I can't believe you picked today of all days to come in late."

"I went down to see Daniel," she said absently, glancing around the office. Everybody had their heads down, and the place was as quiet as a mouse.

Except for the phones.

"Mode Magazine," Amanda said, chocolate stuffed to the side of her cheek like a chipmunk. "Who may I ask is calling?" She listened for a few seconds, eyes rolling heavily. "Sorry, you'll have to call back later. Thanks, bye." She clicked off the phone and turned back to Betty. "So wait. You went to see Daniel. As in jail?"

"He's not in jail," Betty said. "He's just being held for questioning at the precinct building."

Amanda stuffed another piece of candy into her mouth. "Oh, god. How's he holding up? There aren't any big fat bruisers trying to make him their boytoy, are there?"

"No," Betty huffed. "Come on, Amanda. This isn't the movies. I'm sure he's just fine."

"You're sure? You did see him, didn't you?"

"See who?" Marc asked, gliding in beside Amanda. "Was there another update on Fashion TV?"

"I don't know, and no, I didn't get to see Daniel." Betty snugged the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Tell me about it," Amanda said with a snort. She plucked a stack of messages from her desk. "Here, you can start handling this mess."

Betty smiled without showing teeth. The smile that meant she meant business. "Sorry, no time. You'll have to take my calls, Amanda."

"What? That's your job!"

Betty held up a hand, waving Amanda off as she walked to her desk. "My job is helping Daniel."

The phone rang again. "Mode Magazine. Please hold." Amanda hit the mute. "Hey! What'd you bring for lunch?"

Betty ignored her.

"What's with Little Miss Martinette?" Marc asked.

Amanda shrugged and ate another turtle.

Christina found Betty in Daniel's office, methodically searching his desk drawers. The top of his desk hadn't gotten as gentle a treatment: copies of Mode, photographs, and test layouts were scattered haphazardly across the surface. A hard cover novel was open and face down on the floor, and wadded-up cocktail napkins ringed the wastebasket.

"Whatcha doin'?" Christina asked, peering over Betty's shoulder.

Betty sighed, then dropped onto Daniel's chair. "I don't know," she said, tossing a small notepad back into the open drawer. "I was hoping something would spark an idea. That maybe I could find a clue to who could have possibly done this."

"I take it you haven't been successful."

"No," Betty replied sullenly. "Nothing. I just don't get it. Who would want to frame Daniel?"

"Any one of a thousand women, I'd wager." Christina softened her words with a wink and a smile, but Betty glared anyway. "How are you holding up?"

"I don't know." Betty opened the thin drawer in front of her, staring blankly at its contents. "I'm so focused on worrying about him, I haven't had time for anything else."

"Word is you went down to the station to see him."

Betty nodded. "First thing this morning, as soon as I heard. I tried to tell them that Daniel was with me all night, but they wouldn't believe me."

"Oh, dear." Christina covered her mouth with her hand. "I suppose they thought... Well, did you explain that you were working on that layout?"

"What good would it have done? We weren't here, so there weren't any security cameras..." Betty trailed off. She looked up at the corner of the room like the Star of Bethlehem has suddenly shone down. "Christina, you're a genius!"

"Well, that's what I always say, but the clothes are the only ones around to hear it." Christina bumped Betty's shoulder with her own. "So what did I do?"

Betty stood. She grabbed her purse off the edge of Daniel's desk, settling the strap on her shoulder in a determined move. "I have a hunch," she declared. "Now I just need to see if Mr. Meade will help me save his son."

"Watch the book--" Christina called, but Betty'd already found it with her feet.

"I'm fine!" Betty smiled and waved, then took off for the elevators.

"Mr. Meade is very busy right now," his assistant said, but then Bradford Meade himself appeared over her shoulder, shaking his head.

"Come on in, Betty," he said. "I was wondering when I'd see you."

"I should have come up earlier," she apologized. "But things have been so crazy..."

"Yes, that they have." He gestured to one of the thick leather chairs, then seated himself opposite of her. "We've got our best team of lawyers on the case. Daniel's in good hands."

"Of course, Mr. Meade." Betty took a deep breath. "I went down there earlier, to try to see him. But they wouldn't let me."

Bradford nodded, then reached for the decanter of whiskey on the side table. "They wouldn't let me see him, either. Nasty business."

"Very nasty," Betty agreed. "But anyway, Mr. Meade, the thing is, I'm sure that Daniel didn't do this. And I think maybe we can help prove it."

Bradford paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. "You do."

Betty nodded vigorously. "Yes. I just need to see the footage from the security cameras on the entrance of his building."

Bradford took a long sip of his drink. "The police have those. One of the first things they asked for this morning."

"Of course. But see, the thing is, Mr. Meade, I was thinking. And if I were running security for a big company like yours, I would always make a backup in case something happened." Betty smiled. "It's just smart planning."

Bradford gave her an appraising look. "That's what you think, hmmm?"

Betty nodded again.

He smiled

Fifteen minutes later, he stood over her shoulder as she scanned through the previous night's tapes.

"There!" Betty slammed her finger down on the pause button, then backed it up a few frames. "Do you see her?"

Bradford leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "A beautiful woman entering my son's apartment is hardly anything out of the ordinary, Betty."

Betty scowled. "It is when Daniel threatened to have her arrested a year ago."

Bradford looked at her sharply. "Is that so?"

Betty grinned. Her reflection on the screen grinned back at her. "Yes. I think we have something to take to the police."

"I hope you're right, Betty." Bradford squeezed her shoulder. "I hope you're right."

"Detective!"

Dunavett turned. Betty marched towards him, waving a cd in her hand. "Miss Suarez. Was there something I could help you with?"

"Yes!" Betty panted slightly, but she wasn't letting shortness of breath slow her down. "I need to talk to you about what's on the security tapes for Daniel's building. Or rather, who."

Dunavett blinked. "You've seen the security tapes."

Betty nodded.

"You want to explain how?"

She took one deep breath, then let it out in a gust. "No time for that now," she said, waving him off. "This is important."

Dunavett hesitated. Betty looked at him with imploring eyes. "Please, Detective. You don't want to send an innocent man to prison, do you?"

"This way," he said, crooking a finger. "But I'm not going to be happy if this is some kind of con you're trying to pull for your boss."

"It's not, I promise." Betty drew her fingers across her chest in a quick cross. A smile flitted across Dunavett's lips before he ushered her into a large room crowded with desks, filing cabinets, and police officers. They settled in at his desk. He popped the disk into his computer, and Betty took over the mouse.

"Okay, here, you see?"

Dunavett squinted at the grainy picture. "Is that Betcher?"

Betty shook her head. "No, she shows up later. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that's Ricki Davies."

"Who?"

"A woman Daniel, um, saw, about a year ago." Betty licked her lips. "She shouldn't have been there, Detective."

Dunavett shrugged. "So maybe she decided to rekindle an old flame. I'm sorry, Betty, but this doesn't mean anything."

"Wait! You don't understand. Ricki got really weird on Daniel, started stalking him all the time. She finally backed off when he threatened to have her arrested."

Dunavett sat back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. "Arrested for what?"

"She stole a crystal statue from Daniel's apartment." Betty grinned triumphantly. "That was the murder weapon, right? You said it had his name on it."

Dunavett rubbed his eyes. "So he didn't report it stolen."

"No, why?"

"Betty, I'm sorry. All the evidence we have points to the murder being committed by a man. You knowing what the murder weapon is just means that you might have been in on it."

Betty slumped, her bright smile slowly fading away into a tight moue of thought. "But he didn't do it," she insisted. "Please, just look into this. I'm begging you. Maybe she had help or something."

"So now I'm supposed to be looking for some man who somehow managed to get past the security cameras without being seen." Dunavett sat forward, his eyes soft and sorry. "I'm sorry, Betty. I know this is upsetting, but--"

"Please," she begged softly. "Just to make sure."

Dunavett sat back with a sigh. He picked up his pen and pulled his notebook out of his pocket. "What was her name again?"

Betty's grin was back in unstoppable blue.

_In a surprising turn of events, Daniel Meade has been released from police custody and cleared of all charges in connection with the murder of model Karen Betcher. This occurred after the police brought in a new suspect in the case. Sources say that the new suspect is a former lover of Daniel Meade (who isn't?), but that details surrounding the murder are even more sordid than what we can report here on Fashion TV.  
_

_As if! Stay tuned. We'll be bringing you all the juicy details as soon as we hear them ourselves.  
_

"I can't believe Ricki used to be Rick," Daniel said, staring sightlessly down the long hall as they waited for his driver to pick them up.

Betty patted his hand. "Because that means you slept with a man?"

"No, that's not it." Daniel snorted. "I mean, there was that time with these fraternal twins on my dad's yacht--"

"Daniel," Betty snapped. "Your point?"

"That was TMI, wasn't it? Sorry." He sighed loudly. "No, it's just that I used to hang out with Rick all the time in college, you know? We used to go to bars, get drunk and pick up chicks together. Although, now that I think about it, he kept trying to get us all to go home together." Daniel shook his head like he was shaking away the memories. He looked at Betty. "And I never suspected, not once."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I see women for who they are. I do!"

Betty didn't say anything.

"Well, I definitely do now," he said. "You can't argue that."

Betty smiled and leaned further into his side. "No, I can't argue that."

Daniel wrapped his arm around Betty and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Have I said thank you yet?"

"Actually, you have." Betty wrapped her fingers around his index finger. "A couple times already."

"Well, let's make it three times. Thank you." He hugged her close. "You've pulled my butt out of the fire more times than I can count, but this time... This time you saved my life."

"I just did what I had to do," Betty whispered.

Detective Dunavett stepped into the waiting area. "Your car's here," he said, stopping short as he saw them. "Wait. So you guys are together?"

Daniel stood up. "I've given you all the answers you're going to get from me today, Detective."

"Right," Dunavett said. "Sorry about the whole ordeal. I'm glad things worked out."

Daniel didn't respond. Betty leapt into the void, holding out her hand to Dunavett. "Yes, us too. Thank you for your help."

"Come on, Betty," Daniel said. "Let's get out of here."

He held her hand until they reached the door to the building. Paparazzi awaited them as soon as they stepped outside, but several uniformed cops escorted them into the car.

"Stinking vultures," Daniel cursed as soon as he got settled into his seat. "It's one thing when they're hanging out trying to figure out who I'm sleeping with. But a woman was murdered, for God's sake."

"It's been all over TV today," Betty told him. "They can't get enough of you."

"Just wait until they figure out the sex-change angle." Daniel rubbed his eyes, grimacing as he spotted the rust-colored spots on his cuffs. "I need a shower. And God, I can't go back to my place."

"Do you want to come over to my house?"

Daniel shook his head. "Nah, thanks. You've been through enough today without having to deal with me and your family both." He tapped on the glass partition. "The Astoria, please."

Betty sighed. "Daniel, I need to ask you something."

"Um, okay? If it's for a raise, you've got it," he joked uncomfortably.

"No. I mean, yes, that would be great, but that's not what I meant." She moved away from him, turning sideways in the seat so that they could see each other better. "Why didn't you tell them you had an alibi?"

Daniel blinked. "How do you know I didn't?"

"Because the police would have come looking for me, not the other way around." Betty started playing with the zipper of her coat. "Are you ashamed of me, Daniel?"

Daniel sighed. He reached out and stilled her hand. "No. That's not it at all. But you know how vicious the fashion world is, Betty. I didn't want you getting pulled into it, not like that. Besides, I didn't think your family would want to find out by watching TV."

Betty pulled her hands free. "So you'd go to jail for murder to protect my reputation? Daniel, don't be stupid."

"No, I know, okay? It's just that everything happened so fast." He closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the seat. "You didn't see her, Betty. I didn't even know it was Karen until they told me at the station."

"Daniel, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Rick fixated on her because he thought we were dating. Betty, that could have been you up there!"

Silence ruled the car for long seconds.

"But it wasn't me," Betty finally said.

Daniel met her gaze. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Betty nodded. Daniel pulled her in for a kiss, a kiss that turned desperate as all the tension they'd both been holding inside finally escaped.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay, we'll do it."

Betty grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Daniel chuckled giddily, pressing kisses to her face.

Then he stiffened. "I'm going to have to talk to your dad now, aren't I?"

"Yep." Betty pulled away from Daniel and leaned forward to tap on the glass. "We changed our mind," she told the driver when he lowered it. "Take us to Queens."

_Just when you thought things couldn't possibly get more bizarre, Fashion TV is there to bring you the most astounding news of the day. Notorious playboy Daniel Meade has just announced his engagement to his personal assistant at Mode, one less-than-elegant Betty Suarez.  
_

_ We'll be back in a moment with more details. We know the burning question on our viewers' minds: Just who is this Ugly Betty?_


End file.
